[Above photo: Cherry blossoms on Spring Street daring to herald an end to winter.]
8 May 2022
Shamelessly plagiarizing from “Letters From an American”, it is noteworthy that Mothers’ Day started in the late 1870’s as a response to the carnage and trauma of a world run by men—the Civil War and the Franco-Prussian War as particular examples. Far from a day to be nice to your mother—-Why not be nice to your mother every day, or at least once each month?—, it marked an attempt by women to develop influence in the larger sweep of world events. The women’s suffrage movement followed. How toothless the holiday has become: chocolates and flowers and, if lucky, breakfast in bed or brunch out. Watching the awful destruction wrought by boys-with-their-toys in Ukraine and the very problematic reign of the male-dominated Catholic Church in our Supreme Court suggests the importance of a strong feminist movement. Yes, there’s Amy Coney Barrett, but she is a zealot and no zealot is to be trusted.
Remarkably, after some shenanigans, my bid for the townhouse/condo I fell for was accepted! Shenanigans included the selling agent asking of the top 3 bidders, “Can you go a bit more?”. I could and won the competition some few thousands beneath my limit. Now is the period of waiting while the mysteries of loan approval—for I am seeking a small mortgage—unfold. How can my credit be above 800 for years and within a month and no late payments or other missteps it dropped to the high 700’s? It is moot re. the loan but the operation of these silent and inscrutable forces is unsettling.
The classes I have been taking have all ended and they all were terrific, especially the creative writing. One of my classmates, who spent 5 years in Peace Corps in Bulgaria and Ghana as an adult, and I had oysters, steamed clams, and peel-‘em shrimp at The Bait Shed. Like many Maine delights, it sits on a pier poking into the ocean; this particular pier is at the bottom of the immense and protected Scarborough Marsh, overlooking the emancipation of the Nonesuch River into the Atlantic. The place will be jammed in another 4 weeks but was a perfect spot for us to reflect on our Peace Corps experiences.
Thursday evening I gave a slide show and brief talk about my work in Myanmar, sharing the stage with a young child psychiatrist who’d spent 5 months in Malawi immediately before I arrived there. The audience was about 25 child and adolescent psychiatrists and trainees. They hadn’t assembled for 2 years because of covid. The event was held at the Dockside Grill, overlooking Falmouth Harbor. It couldn’t have been a more lovely evening or setting. I’m not sure if I enticed anyone to pursue work abroad, which was my objective, but I think all enjoyed the exotica that Saffron and I displayed.
I’ll contact the head of the child and adolescent psychiatry training program here to assess her interest in my setting up a rotation in a developing country for her Fellows-in-Training. It would be a fun project and I’ll bet I could get funding to do it. Another, less demanding, way to keep my hand in international work. The latter is compelling: doing good, having fun, and stretching oneself in a way that, like all good stretching, feels wonderful afterwards.
Kim will be showing my apartment today at noon. She was flooded with responses as soon as she listed it. Housing is limited here and I have, so far, been remarkably fortunate. Because I’ll move in over Memorial Day weekend, retrieve the contents of my storage locker in Bar Harbor during the subsequent few days, and attempt to get furniture in the ensuing week, I shall not attend my Harvard 60th reunion, which falls in the middle of those activities. It seemed a curiosity and possibly fun back in the cold isolation of February, but my roommate will be in Europe with his wife, celebrating his 80th birthday, and I only recognize distantly a couple of the names on the 25 or so attending. I will miss not seeing Annette, a contemporary ‘Cliffie who is a psychiatrist and was in my medical school class, as well.
I have packed and moved so many times since leaving our home in Berkeley: to Arch Street, to Bar Harbor, to Malawi, to another house in Malawi, to Bar Harbor again, to Myanmar (3 dwellings over 2+ years), to the Island for 4 months, and to my current apartment. Untethered, I’d say. About to be tethered, which is fine and for which I am ready. I am extra-happy to have no lawn and no exterior maintenance! One more move, in several steps.
I live-streamed a wonderful 2 ½ hour memorial service from San Francisco yesterday of an old friend, Stephen Arkin. He was a remarkable guy: brilliant, funny, kind, enthusiastic, generous, a revered teacher, etc. All those qualities, and more, were reflected in the tributes given by his wife, children and many friends. I’m sorry I couldn’t attend in person, as I felt I needed to be here while house-hunting. These occasions will be more frequent, clearly, as the clock ticks. Winding down, closing up shop, heading to greener pastures (doubtful), taking a final deep dive.
A Psychiatrist in Myanmar 